


In Which Oishi's Worries Multiply

by rockbrigade



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 13:32:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1984782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockbrigade/pseuds/rockbrigade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Oishi starts to panic about whether or not he'll graduate into third year, Tezuka tries to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Oishi's Worries Multiply

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of an exchange. Momo and Kaidoh make a small appearance.

He craned his neck to catch a glimpse of the notice board, and when that proved unsuccessful, he parted the students in front of him with a gentle hand and a fervent apology. He knew his number by heart, but still scanned the board for it impossibly, and drew the memo out of his pocket just to be sure he was right. He was. His heart plummeted - what on Earth would anyone say! He could clearly see the disapproving looks from his teachers, and parents, and Tezuka… and when someone bumped into him, trying to get a better look at the notice, he cried, "I'm sorry!!" and darted away. 

The teacher drew him aside in his next maths class. "I'm sorry!" Oishi said, before the teacher could open his mouth, "I know I could've done better on that last test, I just…" he wanted to say it, the truth. I've had a lot on my plate recently. But instead he said, "…I think I was having an off day!" and instantly wanted to apologise for lying. 

"Oishi-kun, I think you've also been worrying a little too much about other things, yes?" This was it, he was going to say it. "For example, your club--" 

"I'm sorry, I'll improve by the next test! Don't worry!" Oishi bowed quickly and left the room. He sighed when he'd made it to the corridor, but it didn't bring him the relief he'd hoped. And as he folded his uniform into his locker, he considered that this could be the last time he went to club. The room was just chilly enough to make the hairs on his arm stand on end in the moments before he put on his jersey, so he zipped it quickly and rubbed at his arms through the fabric. In the corner, Momo and Kaidoh were grappling with each other, probably to fend off the cold. Oishi sighed and approached them.

"I'm colder than you, dumbass!" Momo said, and Kaidoh grunted at him, twisting the fabric of his shirt even harder. Oishi parted them with his hands, and they stood glowering at each other, and rubbing their arms. 

"It's no good for you to fight all the time," Oishi said, "you'll kill each other." 

"Then I'd die a hero!!" Momo said, and Kaidoh snarled at him. 

"Now, Momo," Oishi said, and looked at him reproachfully. "If you don't make it to second year, that would be awful. Then you'd never know which of you would become a regular first." His heart sank as he said it. Supposing he couldn't graduate to third year, what use would he be to the club. "The club needs you," he said, unable to keep the sombre tone out of his voice.

"Hear that, ya snake? The club needs ME!"

"The club needs both of you," Oishi said, and Kaidoh straightened his bandana with a humph. 

He considered picking up a resignation form, just in case, after practise on his way out. He stared hard at the little dusty box, filled with miscellaneous scraps of paper, doodles that Eiji and Momo must've made, and a suspicious Inui-like clipping of text about calf muscles. Sure enough, at the very bottom of the box there was a single resignation sheet that hadn't been vandalised. He held it up to his face and looked at the questions. For what reason/s do you wish to leave the club? It was such a calm question, he could almost hear Tezuka asking it. And then Tezuka said, "Oishi?" from behind him. 

Oishi jumped, looking rapidly from the sheet of paper to Tezuka, and back again, trying to determine if Tezuka really had asked him, but Tezuka tilted his head. 

"Pardon me for startling you," he said, and then, "what are you reading?" 

Oishi took a long look at the sheet of paper. "Nothing," he said, folding it and sliding it into his pocket, "just a doodle Eiji did. I said I'd find it for him." He shrugged his bag higher onto his shoulder and waited. 

"I see," Tezuka said. Tezuka's deep and steady eyes lingered on him. He took in so much, and Oishi scratched at his hair and smiled. 

"Well, if that's all--" Oishi said, but Tezuka put out his hand to catch Oishi's shoulder. 

"Actually, Oishi, I would like to ask for your help." 

He could hear the bubbling of the fish tank as soon as he stepped into his room. He closed the door behind him, softly, keeping the handle turned until the door was snug in the frame to avoid the latch clicking. He placed his bag in its usual corner, sat on his bed, and then walked to his desk and sat there instead. He peeked past the blind on his window, looked at his clock, examined his reflection in the glass of the picture frame on his wall. Then, as if seeing the panic in his own eyes flicked a switch within him, he scrunched his shoulders and dug his fingernails into his palm. He wheeled round, grasping at his hair, and with a half-strangled yelp, pushed his nose against the fish tank and watched his equally-startled fish swim for cover. 

"He wants MY help!?" he said, but the fish didn't stir. He watched the serene movements of the plants and the treasure chest that spat out bubbles, and slumped backwards. He sighed. The clock ticked, and he went over Tezuka's request in his mind to make sure there was no possible way Tezuka might've mistaken him for Inui. Perhaps Inui had been there all along, hiding in the shadow of the lockers. By now Inui would be laughing at Oishi's reaction, at how illogical it would be for Tezuka to ask someone like Oishi for help with maths. But no, he'd said it, handn't he? Oishi, I want YOUR help. A flow of colour in front of his eyes brought him round. The fish had come out of hiding. "Oh, I'm sorry!" Oishi said, realising only now what he'd done. "I got carried away…" 

The heaters were on in the library, and the first glimpses of morning sun, arriving late, were pale as they stretched through the windows. He looked over his shoulder towards the entrance, and then checked his watch. He was early. He had wanted to be early; Tezuka would never arrive late, but now the hairs at the back of his neck were starting to prickle under the continuous glares of the passing librarians. He chose a conspicuous table so that he wouldn't be missed -- he checked his watch again -- but now he thought wistfully of the study space further back, out of view from the main desk. Oishi took up his bag and laid his textbooks out on the desk with deliberate movements, switching the order of the books and his pencil box a few times before he found the most convenient arrangement. And when he looked up, he saw Tezuka standing in the entrance.

Oishi's heart thundered, and he pushed his seat back to stand. "T-Tezuka!" he said, louder than he had intended, and he coughed his voice back to a reasonable volume as a librarian clicked her tongue at him. Tezuka spotted him, and walked over with the composure that was almost elegance on him, and nodded to Oishi politely. 

"I'm sorry if I was late, Oishi," he said, checking his watch in a way that would seem confused on anyone else, "have I kept you waiting for long?" 

"A-ah, no, no you weren't late!" Oishi said, in a voice that was self-consciously hushed but not necessarily quiet, "I um. I was just early…" He watched as Tezuka settled into the seat beside him. Even the way Tezuka drew his materials out of his bag was noiseless and casual. From the side, the lenses of his glasses caught pure pools of light and held them on his cheek, brightening him, softening the look of his eyes so they glistened. And with only a slight movement of his head, Tezuka looked back at Oishi, waiting, and Oishi cleared his throat. "U-um, Tezuka…" He waved his hands hopelessly in the air just above the desk. 

"What is it, Oishi?" Tezuka said, steady as ever. 

"I just… Are you sure you want MY help? W-with maths, I mean?" 

"I see…" Tezuka said, looking down at the table, "I'm inconveniencing you, aren't I? Forgive me," Oishi tried to butt in with a protest, but Tezuka continued, "The truth is, I have been concerned for the upcoming finals… I hoped you might help me." 

Oishi gulped, but it didn't soothe the pang of guilt in his stomach. All along he'd only been thinking of himself! "Well, of course I'll help you, Tezuka… if I can…" His laugh sounded nervous as he reached for the textbook. "Where should we start, then?" 

The bustle in the library picked up somewhere along the way, and the shape the sunlight made through the windows changed. Tezuka calmly asked Oishi for explanations for this or that, and listened with attentive nods and hums of understanding. Oishi would look at him -- to see if he was following -- and would find that Tezuka had not taken his eyes off Oishi's face for even a moment. Oishi's face felt tight then, and he would stumble over his words so much that he ended up repeating himself. But Tezuka would say, "I understand now, thank you," and that made Oishi grin despite himself. 

"So for this next problem," Oishi said, suddenly enthusiastic, looking up just as a librarian passed by their desk. Oishi hesitated and lowered his face again, "after all, Tezuka, shouldn't I apologise for being a bit too…" he flapped his arms again. 

"We are here to study. It's fine," Tezuka said, placing a hand on Oishi's shoulder to calm him -- but did he know that Oishi's back tensed and his heart fluttered in the pit of his stomach? Of course not, of course not -- and Oishi laughed and relaxed back down into his chair. He nodded. And Tezuka said, "please begin your explanation." 

Oishi copied the numbers from the textbook into his notebook. "So you see here. If we start by carrying the two--" 

"Pardon me, Oishi, but that two should be a three." Tezuka pointed at the example in the book, and waited for Oishi to acknowledge it. 

"Oh you're right!" He quickly erased it and wrote it again, "I'm so sorry! I must be a bit distracted… So carry the three--" 

"Forgive me, Oishi, but I think you should be multiplying first in this example." 

Oishi stared hard at the textbook and walked himself through the steps of the method outlined at the top of the page. "Oh yeah," he said, "thanks, Tezuka, I always get that part a little bit muddled!" Tezuka nodded at him. "So, multiplying…" Oishi readied his pencil above the paper to begin the working out… when instead he drew his hand back. He looked sheepishly at Tezuka. "You knew all along it was wrong, didn't you?" Tezuka didn't look startled at all. "I mean, not just this. You don't need any help with your maths at all, do you?" 

"Neither do you, it appears," Tezuka said. Oishi sat bolt upright, accidentally pushing his chair out as he moved and swaying slightly with the surprise of it.

"But--" 

"As I thought, all you needed was to believe in yourself." Tezuka breathed out softly, and it made him seem as though he were pleased and smiling. "I was hoping I could help you since you were worrying." Oishi let his shoulders drop, and sighed. Well, yeah, explaining the problems to Tezuka helped him to make sense of it. Still, the nape of his neck felt warm when he thought about how cocky he must've seemed.

"T-thanks, Tezuka…" Oishi said, without meeting Tezuka's eye. A long silence fell between them, pleasing the passing librarians. Oishi bit his lip, chewed over his thoughts, and then swallowed his pride. "Um, if you don't mind, could you listen to me while I go through multiplying fractions? I, uh, I keep messing up on it…" 

The morning was cold, but Oishi's stomach was colder, and dread trickled and gurgled through him the closer he got to school. The final results would be put up in the hall. In the classroom, the girls were already chirping happily about their predictions for which class they'd be in next year. He pictured it, sitting in the desk behind Tezuka like he had last year… And then someone poked their head around the door and said, "They're up!!" and in the mass scraping of chair legs against the waxy floor, Oishi remembered. That's right, Tezuka would be passing into third year no problem. Oishi was a different story altogether. 

He dragged his feet to the notice board, the crowd ahead of him rippling with excitement and despair. He clenched his hand around the memo in his pocket -- just in case he forgot his exam number, today of all days -- and made his way to the front with a weak smile and even weaker apologies. He scanned the paper until he found his number. And blinked. He scanned from the top again, but the result was the same. He pulled the memo out of his pocket and followed the number chain along, digit for digit, and someone behind him laughed and said, "It really happened! Oishi forgot his exam number!" But he hadn't forgotten. He was right all along. That was his number. He was the student who had passed with a high grade! He felt dizzy on the way back to his seat, and his toes tapped restlessly. He had to tell Tezuka - he had to thank him. 

His mind was still full of what he should say when he reached into his locker for his shoes… and his hand hit upon the pencil box. He drew it out and examined it, a little dusty from sitting there, there was a sale on at the stationary store for white day and he'd picked up an extra just in case. But it was embarrassing, and he scratched the back of his head, to give someone such an afterthought of a gift in thanks. He felt Tezuka's hand softly on his shoulder. "Oishi," he said, in greeting, and Oishi took a deep breath and turned to him. 

"Tezuka! I passed! It's all thanks to you!" 

"I'm glad for you, Oishi. You worked hard, it wasn't to do with me." 

"Still, I want to thank you!" Oishi looked down at the gleaming white pencil box. And then he offered it to Tezuka. "I know it's not much of anything -- it's actually a white day gift I didn't give -- Ah, n-not that this is like a white day thing! I just thought, well," He stared at the lockers and scratched at his cheek. "Please take it." He said, finally. 

Tezuka nodded, and took the pencil box into his hands. "Thank you, Oishi. I'll treasure it."


End file.
